Lady Hester’s mode of life--Boghoz Bey--The insurrection of the
Druzes--Character of the Emir Beshýr--Ibrahim Pasha--Lady Charlotte
Bury--Preparations for the reception of Prince Pückler Muskau.
Tuesday, April 3, 1838.--I have frequently been asked this question in
England--“How did Lady Hester pass her time in the solitude of the
Lebanon?” and, if my answers were generally evasive, the reader of
these pages can have no difficulty by this time in understanding the
reason why. Another common inquiry was--“Is she writing her memoirs?”
Some people were curious to know whether she read a great deal; and
others fancied her to be riding in oriental splendour at the head of
tribes of Arabs, or residing in a palace, where she sat on a throne of
ivory and gold, robed in silk and brocade, and treading, when she
walked from room to room, on cashmere shawls; elevating her, in fact,
into the queen of realms which had as clear an existence in their
imagination as the kingdoms in the thousand and one Arabian nights.
Whoever has perused thus far this melancholy account will have seen
how sad a reality has been substituted for such pleasing visions. Her
memoirs, if ever they are written, must be found in her letters, of
which many hundreds may yet be in the hands of her various
correspondents: for her pen was very prolific. And, were it possible
to hope that a sufficient number of these could be obtained from the
individuals possessing them, on the pledge that they should be devoted
to such a purpose, a compilation might be made, not less entertaining
than instructive. Some of her letters on political subjects would be
read with great attention by the world, both for the style and for the
enlarged and original views they contain. Of these perhaps the most
carefully written, at least since she came abroad, are those addressed
to the late Mr. Coutts, the eminent banker. The letters she received,
I believe, were very generally burned. I have entered her room when
she had before her a pile of them squeezed up that would have filled
an oven, which she was preparing to have consigned to the flames. She
told me that, before Miss Williams’s death, a heap twice as large had
been destroyed. This gave me some idea of the extent of her
correspondence.[8]
The contrast between the way in which she actually employed her time
and the way in which most people supposed she spent it affords a
curious illustration of the strangely erroneous impressions which
sometimes get abroad concerning remarkable individuals. For the last
six or eight years, with the exception of her multifarious
correspondence and the occasional visit of a traveller, her hours were
filled up in counteracting the intrigues of her maids, or of the Emir
Beshýr, or of Mahomet Ali--and I never could see that she attached
much more importance to the one than the other: in doing acts of
charity; in stimulating the Druzes to rise in arms against Ibrahim
Pasha; in fostering the Sultan’s declining power; in bringing consuls
to what she considered their true bearings; and in regulating her
household. Who would suppose, for instance, that four long hours were
spent this day in sorting napkins, table-cloths, quilts, pillows, &c.,
preparatory to the prince’s visit. Her minute directions in those
matters would have worn out the most indefatigable housekeeper. Of
what assistance I might be on such occasions I never could make out;
but she generally requested me to be present, if it were only, she
said, to be a voucher for her against the lies of the women, who often
stood her out, when her orders were not executed, that she had not
given them.
During the day she called in a Metouali servant-girl about thirteen
years old, who perhaps had not been in her presence for a year: but,
under the pretence of examining whether her hair had been kept in a
cleanly condition, she really wanted to ascertain whether there were
any appearances of levity about her. This led to a conversation
concerning little children. “Were I a despotic sovereign,” observed
she, “I would institute a foundling hospital upon a different plan to
those now in existence, where children should be received, and placed
in the care of the daughters of people in good circumstances, under
the direction of old women, that these young persons might learn how
to nurse, and dress, and dandle, and manage infants when they
themselves became mothers. What is so shocking as to find English
girls who are married, and have never seen how an infant is taken care
of?[9] They bring one into the world, and know no more the duties of a
mother--no, not so well as the sheep and the asses. What is the reason
you always see little lambs and little foals gambolling about so, and
little children always crying? there must be something wrong, and
that I would obviate?”
Lady Hester spoke of Mahomet Ali and Boghoz Bey, his minister, once a
penniless Armenian adventurer, who went to Egypt to seek his fortune.
“I consider Boghoz,” said she, “as one of the most consummate
politicians in Europe. He is not an Armenian, although he says he
is--his mother was; so was his ostensible father, a rich merchant;--but
I have found out his real father. His real father was a Turkish aga,
named” (I forgot who) “who used to pay clandestine visits to her, and
he is the fruits of them. When I wrote to him once, I gave him such a
trimming!--something in this way.--‘Sir, I once knew, when I was in
Egypt, a Mr. Boghoz, a polite and accomplished gentleman, who left
very agreeable recollections of himself in my memory. I hear now there
is a Boghoz Bey, the minister of his Highness the Viceroy of Egypt,
and that he has joined in a revolution with his master against his
legitimate sovereign. If Boghoz Bey would listen to me, I would tell
him that partial revolutions never succeed, and that I never thought
well of them. The lot of those who rise against their lawful sovereign
has always been unfortunate. Show me an example of a usurper, who has
not ended badly: even Buonaparte could not bear to be called one. I a
usurper! were his words--I found a crown in the mud, and placed it on
my head. When servants take a ride in their master’s coach, everybody
scoffs and laughs at them, and they are sure to get overturned. The
column of power, which Mahomet Ali has raised, will melt away, like
snow before the sun, as soon as his good fortune has come to its
zenith. I cannot change my opinion, and Boghoz Bey need not attempt to
make me: for he might as well attempt to make a quaker uncover himself
before a king, which several monarchs in Europe have not succeeded in
doing.’”
Wednesday, April 4.--To-day, as usual, I did not see Lady Hester. Her
maid told me she had ordered her window-shutters to be closed, and not
to be disturbed on any account.
April 6.--Lady Hester was better. She informed me that Ibrahim Pasha’s
affairs were growing critical; for Sherýf Pasha was so badly wounded
in the leg that he could not stir from his bed, and Sulymàn Pasha was
blockaded in the Horàn. These two generals, she added, had lost full
10,000 men, and the Arabs and Druzes were grown so bold that they had
penetrated as far as Hasbéyah, and had made considerable booty.
As the Druze insurrection has excited considerable attention in
Europe, and as the origin of it is but imperfectly known, I may be
excused for making a short digression from my diary in order to give
the reader such information respecting it as I picked up in
conversation with individuals, who, from their proximity to the scene
of action, may naturally be supposed to have drawn it themselves from
good sources.
The prince of the Druzes, known by the title of the Emir of the
Druzes, or the Emir Beshýr (Emir being his title and Beshýr his
prenomen, as we should say Prince Edward), has, in the course of his
long life--for he is now more than eighty-four years of age--been
obliged to fly from his principality three or four times, having, on
many occasions, with difficulty escaped the vengeance of three
successive pashas of Acre, who, for his treasonable practices, by
mandates from the sultan, sought his head. Twice or three times he
took refuge in Egypt. His last flight to that country was not many
years ago; where, until he was able to return to Mount Lebanon again,
he lived, it was said, in obscurity, unnoticed by Mahomet Ali. He must
be a wise man who could say whom Mahomet Ali noticed or not; for,
during this apparent neglect, it is suspected the plan for the
conquest of Syria was laid between them. On his return to Syria, the
Emir Beshýr was reinstated in his principality. Some events, not
necessary to our narrative, retarded for a time the projected
invasion; but, at last, seizing upon a propitious moment, Ibrahim
Pasha marched his father’s forces into Syria, besieged Acre, the
stronghold of the country, took Damascus, all Cœle-Syria, and the
sea-coast, and then led his troops, elate with victory, into Asia
Minor, where he defeated the sultan’s army, and would have proceeded
on to Constantinople, had not the intervention of the European powers
arrested his course.
Returning to Syria, he organized his new government, and silently
matured his scheme for bringing Mount Lebanon into subjection. In
order to obtain popularity for himself, stories were industriously
circulated by his emissaries of the total estrangement of Sultan
Mahmood from every tenet and dogma of Islamism. He was said to
frequent houses of ill repute, to dress like a Frank, to drink wine
with the Greeks in the taverns at Pera, and to have lost all sense of
Mussulman propriety. These scandalous rumours were promulgated in all
directions with a sinister view to elevate, by comparison, the
character and life of Ibrahim Pasha; for there is nothing so revolting
to the true believers as any approximation to European usages and
vices: and whatever some writers, in their ardour for civilization, as
they designate it, may fancy, no amalgamation ever can be formed
between nations so opposite in climate, habits, religion, and dress,
as the Europeans and Orientals. Be this as it may, it is not
improbable that these malevolent reports, to a certain extent,
answered the ends for which they were designed, insensibly undermining
the sultan’s personal influence, and disposing the Syrian mussulmans
to regard Ibrahim Pasha as an apostle of their faith.
It was not until the fourth year from his first invasion that Ibrahim
Pasha attempted the complete subjugation of Mount Lebanon. The Druzes
are a warlike people, hardy, accustomed to fatigue and to the use of
arms, living in villages difficult, nay, impossible of access for
artillery, and easily capable of defence from their natural position.
All their houses are of stone, and the interminable succession of
field walls forms favourable breastworks for opposing an approaching
enemy. Some old castles, dating from the time of the crusaders, are
still standing in various parts of the country, generally on sites
commanding the surrounding neighbourhood. Beside the Druzes, there is
a race of Christians, known as the Maronite population, whose villages
cover that part of the chain of Mount Lebanon which runs behind
Tripoli as far as Calât el Medýk and the plain of Accár, where a
narrow defile occurs, through which there is a communication between
the plains of Accár and the Bkâa, which is the plain that divides
Lebanon and Ante-Lebanon. Beyond this defile, the mountain rises into
a lofty chain, running towards Latakia; and here dwell the Ansaréas,
the Ishmaelites, and some other races:--but we have only to do now
with Mount Lebanon.
By arrangements, supposed to have been previously made between the
Emir and Ibrahim Pasha, and in order that it might look as if the Emir
was taken totally by surprise, one fine night in the summer, several
regiments of Ibrahim Pasha’s troops were marched from Acre, Sayda, and
Tripoli, on one side, and from Damascus and Bâalbec on the other, so
as to arrive at _Btedýn_ (the Emir’s palace) at Dayr el Kamar (the
chief town) and at all the other important points of Mount Lebanon,
precisely on the same day, and as nearly as possible precisely at the
same hour. Either that the time had been well chosen, inasmuch as the
Druzes were then employed in harvesting and other agricultural
labours, or else the plan had been so laid as to ensure success and to
preclude resistance: the result was that the mountain was taken
possession of without firing a gun. The Emir Beshýr, acknowledged to
be the most consummate and perfidious hypocrite of modern times,
played his part so well and feigned such great trepidation and alarm
when two regiments marched into the courtyard of his palace, that he
persuaded his household, his minister, and the Druze people in
succession, that he was the victim of the stratagem as much as they
were themselves.
But, although Ibrahim Pasha had thus concentrated in the Lebanon a
sufficient force to overawe the Druzes, the material fact was not to
be overlooked that they were still in possession of their arms, which,
under favourable circumstances, they might turn against the occupants.
His first step, therefore, was to disarm them, which was done
effectually; those who were refractory being either bastinadoed, or,
if they exhibited any very aggravated resistance, put to death. Many,
however, succeeded in secreting their weapons. Not to have too much
work on his hands at once, Ibrahim exempted the Christians from the
disarmament, and, by cajoling and pretending he was disposed to favour
them, he flattered the petty vanity, that readily manifests itself in
a population which the superiority of the Druzes and long habits of
servility to mussulman masters had kept somewhat in a state of
inferiority; for, although the Maronites, who never live much away
from Mount Lebanon, hold themselves not at all inferior to the Druzes,
it is not so with the Greeks and Greek Catholics of the villages, who,
creeping through life in abject submissiveness to their rulers, were
easily entrapped by so flattering and unexpected a compliment. The
consequence was that, what with fine silk girdles and turbans of
brighter colours than before, what with a brace of pistols and the
conceit their new privilege inspired, persons who had returned to the
mountain after the absence of a year, would not have known them. Thus
was created a certain degree of dislike in the breasts of the Druzes,
who saw the Maronites and other Christians take the part of their
oppressors against them; but, when a sufficient time had elapsed for
leaving this source of jealousy to ferment between the two parties,
Ibrahim Pasha played off another of those tricks for which he is
unrivalled. Abbas Pasha, his nephew, one day happened to see one of
the principal Christians, a warden of the Emir Beshýr’s, dressed out
very finely, with his pistols in his girdle, and with side arms; “Who
is that man?” said he, in a loud tone of voice; “what is all that
finery? what is the meaning of those pistols, of that khanjàr, and
that sabre? why, what am I to wear, if those fellows appear in my
presence such fine gentlemen? Some remedy must be found for this--I
must see to it.” True enough he did; for, very shortly after, the
Christians were desired to bring their arms and give them up, and the
same measures were resorted to for enforcing the order in reference to
them which had already been applied with such savage rigour to the
Druzes.
The whole of Syria was now defenceless. The beautiful bazars of
Damascus, once famous for their finely-tempered blades and weapons of
defence, which, for many centuries, conferred such a remarkable
reputation on the artificers of that city, were now shorn of their
splendour. The Turks, who, in general, have always been proud of
displaying their sabres, guns, and pistols, on their persons or
suspended over their sofas, were now crestfallen: sadness was depicted
in every countenance, and only wolves, jackals, and partridges seemed
to rejoice in the change that had taken place.
But the spirit of the Druzes was not broken: they began to suspect
that they had been betrayed by the Emir Beshýr. Circumstances
transpired from time to time which led them to suppose that their
independence had been made a traffic of between him and Mahomet Ali,
and that they had been sold to enrich the coffers of the one, and
enlarge the domains of the other. The equivocal conduct of the Emir
Beshýr, his overacted apprehension, the treachery discoverable in some
of his measures, finally, his known duplicity, led them to the
conclusion that he had betrayed them. To complete their disasters,
Ibrahim Pasha introduced the conscription among them, a measure so
revolting to their usages, and so utterly at variance with the
voluntary levies of their forefathers, that the severest punishment,
not even the fear of death, could induce them to submit patiently to
so hateful an infliction.
The Druzes are inhabitants of three provinces of Syria, viz., Mount
Lebanon, Gebel Aali, near Aleppo, and the Horàn. The proximity of the
Horàn to the Desert and to the Bedouin Arabs, who acknowledge the
authority of neither pasha nor sultan, obviously suggested that
district--little known, indeed, to European travellers, but affording
many natural means of defence, and far removed from garrisons and
cities--as a refuge from the conscription. Many recruits, therefore,
fled from their families in Mount Lebanon to the Horàn, until, from
increase of numbers and of sufferings in a common cause, they mustered
in sufficient force to oppose resistance to the Pasha’s troops. They
were joined by the Bedouin Arabs, who hover round that quarter, and,
in their approaches towards Damascus, gave considerable apprehension
to their Egyptian masters. Sheryf Pasha marched to quell the
insurrection, and Suliman, Pasha of Sayda, joined him. We have already
seen that Sheryf Pasha was wounded in a rencontre with them; and,
taking up the events that occurred in the course of the campaign from
that date, I shall insert them in my diary as they come to my
knowledge.[10]
Lady Hester, who was favourable to the cause of the Sultan and
abhorred the Emir Beshýr, whilst she admired the military talents and
known courage of Ibrahim Pasha, determined, nevertheless, to
stigmatize him as a rebel, and work his overthrow, if she could: she,
therefore, encouraged in every way the hostile disposition of the
Druzes. From the beginning of Ibrahim Pasha’s successes in Syria, the
protection she afforded to the refugees and wounded from Acre
sufficiently manifested her tendencies. Mahomet Ali, who was aware of
her political abilities, her unflinching opposition to him, and her
fearless support of the Sultan, had written, through Boghoz Bey, to
deprecate her interference in the affairs of the province, and to
signify that, if she afforded an asylum and counsel to his enemies,
the tranquillity of Syria could not be secured. A portion of her
answer has already been given; but when Ibrahim Pasha made so easy a
conquest of the mountain, a word fell from his mouth, which, if ever
the Druzes succeed in expelling him, may be said to have been the
cause of his reverses. He is reported to have exclaimed from his
divan, when the news of the entire occupation of Mount Lebanon without
firing a single shot was brought to him, “What, those dogs of Druzes
had not a single bullet for us!” This little sentence was repeated to
Lady Hester, and not long afterwards a Druze of some note came to pay
her a visit. As he entered the room, she abruptly addressed him in the
same words, “Dog of a Druze! what, hadn’t you one single bullet for
Ibrahim Pasha?”--and then, with a sort of sarcastic pity, dilated on
Ibrahim Pasha’s exultation over them. She made it a by-word among her
servants; and not a Druze came near the house but he was saluted with,
“Dog of a Druze! what, had not you a single bullet for the Pasha?” To
people connected with Ibrahim Pasha’s government, she told the same
story, seemingly as if in praise of the Pasha’s bravery, who loved war
so much that he could not bear an easy and bloodless conquest, even
though to his own advantage. In every quarter, through every channel,
the Pasha’s saying was echoed in the Druzes’ ears: and his followers,
thinking it an anecdote that told well for their master, did not
consider that it rankled in the bosoms of the Druzes, who, stung to
the core by these cutting words, swore never to sleep until the hour
of vengeance came.
We will now return to the narrative of the occurrences which were
passing in Lady Hester’s house.
Saturday, April 7.--This day, when I saw Lady Hester, she asked me if,
on entering, I had observed anybody under the olive-tree outside of
the gate: I answered I had. “Well,” said she, “go and talk to
her.”--“But the person I saw was a poor man,” I replied.--“Ah! that’s
the one,” resumed Lady Hester; “that’s not a man, but a woman in man’s
clothes: that woman, at the siege of Acre, used to carry water to the
artillerymen on the ramparts, during the fire, to drink, and was never
in the least afraid; she is worth seeing: she comes to me every year
for a little money. I used to give her 150 or 200 piasters: but, as I
am poor now, take her fifty, and tell her I am rather short of money.”
I went, and sat down and talked with her. She had a small gray eye and
a placid countenance: she seemed to be very well aware of the
movements of the Pasha’s troops, and it struck me afterwards that she
might be accustomed to use her disguise for the same purposes in Lady
Hester’s service that the woman spoken of in a former part did for the
first Lord Chatham. I told her Lady Hester was ill, and that there was
no chance of seeing her: I added some tobacco to the present which her
ladyship had sent her; and, in very proper terms, she returned thanks,
and went away.
Sunday, April 8.--Osman Chaôosh had been sent to Beyrout for money,
and returned to-day, bringing only £40, the bill on Mr. Michael
Tutungi having been protested. The steamboat from England had arrived,
and there were no letters.
Monday, April 9.--When I first came to Jôon, Lady Hester Stanhope had
expressed an inclination to see one of Lady Charlotte Bury’s novels:
so, having at length received, on the preceding evening, the “Memoirs
of a Peeress,” which I had written for to France, I began reading it
to her to-day. She was calm and composed. The history of events, so
well known to her, seemed to afford her singular pleasure; and it was
evident that if she had always sought for amusement in books, instead
of spending her time in disciplining incorrigible knaves and wenches,
she might have found many happy hours, even in the midst of sickness
and solitude.
Lady Hester had been looking into the book in the course of the day.
“I do not think,” observed she, “that the heroine’s character is
hers;” (meaning Lady Charlotte’s,) “it seems to me a fictitious one,
made up partly of her own observations, partly of what has happened to
herself: if it is anybody, it must mean Lady Caher. Perhaps Lady
Charlotte’s husband writes the books, and she supplies the materials.
The style is not that of a woman like her; she is more likely to set
off on foot three or four miles to see how they ploughed (at Abra, for
example,) like an active Scotch woman; but, as for writing a book, I
think she was no more likely to do it than I am.[11] I could not
write a book, doctor, if you would give me the world. Ah! I could
dictate a little to anybody who wanted to write down a correct account
of circumstances that I know.
“I remember Lady Charlotte’s first going to court, and the effect was
very much what she describes of Miss Mordaunt:--that is, somebody said
she is too thin--very handsome, to be sure, but too thin: and somebody
else observed that, in a year’s time, when she filled out, she would
be remarkably beautiful, which turned out to be the case. She was
three years older than me, but she had such a hand and arm, and such a
leg! she had beautiful hair too, gold colour, and a finely-shaped
nose, and fine complexion. In about three years she all at once
disappeared from the _beau monde_: she married her cousin, who was
poor, and was still Lady Charlotte Campbell, but always in uneasy
circumstances. When he died, she travelled into Italy, for the sake of
educating her children, and there she married the tutor:--some of
those tutors are very good-looking men. There was a daughter of the
D*** of B*******, who married a tutor. To be sure they were carroty,
although she was the prettiest; but the D*** would not see her for
three years, and, at last, they gave him a living. One of the R******
family also married a tutor.”
I read on, and came to the passage where the heroine speaks of herself
as grown old, and having lost her charms. Here Lady Hester interrupted
me:--“That cannot be her,” said she; “for C. told me she is still a
loveable woman, and that the Persian Ambassador left England
desperately in love with her.”
An Englishman, as it was supposed, in the course of the day, was seen
to pass the gate, and was observed taking sketches towards the south
side of the walls; he spoke to nobody, and went his way: who or what
he was no one knew.[12]
Thursday, April 12.--The whole of the last week had been a busy one
with Lady Hester, who, in spite of her weakness, had rummaged out all
her best sheets, bought new dinner-napkins, had particular and strange
marks put to them, and, on the certainty of the prince’s coming, had
ordered the road within the gate up to the strangers’ garden to be new
laid and rolled, the doors to be fresh painted, and such other
preparations to be made as should give an air of cleanliness, if of
nothing else, to her solitary abode.
This day was showery; yet, notwithstanding, about three o’clock, she
issued from her chamber, and, requesting me to be present, she made
the store-room man produce all the contents of his china-closet and
spread them out on the pavement of the courtyard before her; where,
seated with her stick in her hand to point and strike with, she
examined, re-examined, and classed everything, until she had made up a
breakfast and dinner service for the prince, as also one for his
Turkish attendants, and one for his European servants.
It was on such occasions as these that Lady Hester infused activity
into the most sluggish. A blunder, an act of stupidity, or a lie, was
sure to be followed by a smart blow on the shoulders from her stick,
which fell like a German corporal’s on a soldier at drill. The
epithets of beast, rascal, stupid fellow, etcetera, were dealt out
with much freedom and readiness in the Arabic language. An old blue
and white teapot, two teacups and saucers, and two plates, one a
little broken, were all she could muster of the same pattern for
tea-things; and, for dinner, white plates and dishes composed a plain
but decent set. In my own house, not five hundred yards off, I had a
complete breakfast set in white French porcelain, and another in
English ware, as also a spare dinner service: these I pressed her to
make use of for the prince, but she would not listen to it:--“let him
see what I am reduced to,” she said. Lastly, she sent for the two
servants who were to wait at table on the prince, and ordered them to
set out on the ground (for there was no table in her apartments,
except the old card-table, which alternately went from her bed-room to
her saloon, and from her saloon to her bed-room, as she moved from one
to the other) all the plates and dishes as if for dinner, that they
might take a lesson. But, as it was impossible to make them understand
anything about order or symmetry, I suggested that one of my lads, who
was accustomed to lay the cloth, should be promoted to that post
during the prince’s stay. “Let me see first if he knows,” said Lady
Hester: so Mahmôod, a Turkish lad of sixteen, was sent for. He had
never seen Lady Hester, and, like all those who were shut out from her
courtyard and garden, thought her some mysterious being: judge,
therefore, of his fright when he came before her. Being told what he
was called for, he set about it as he had been taught by Miss
Longchamp, who, in the French fashion, and at a round table, had made
him place the soup-terrine in the middle. This excited a loud
exclamation from Lady Hester, and afforded her an opportunity of
showing how a table was laid in fashionable houses. The scene lasted
until sunset, and Mahmôod was duly promoted to the office of
_buffetier_ to the prince’s table!
FOOTNOTES:
[8] A collection of the Arabic letters which she had
received from people of all classes and on all
subjects would have been very valuable to the Oriental
scholar: but these were also burned at various
intervals.
[9] “There is perhaps not one mother in ten thousand,
who, before becoming such, has ever inquired into
the nature and wants of the newly-born infant, or
knows on what principle its treatment ought to be
directed.”--_Physiology of Digestion, by Andrew
Combe, M.D._, p. 232, 2nd edition.
[10] It may be mentioned that Suliman Pasha is considered
as the most efficient general in Syria, and, in
difficult situations, he is supposed to direct the
movements of the army. Ibrahim Pasha passes for being
jealous of him, but unable to do without him.
[11] On returning to Europe, I discovered that this novel,
although edited by Lady C. Bury, was the production
of another lady, Mrs. C. Gore. Nevertheless, the
observations made on it and on its supposed author are
retained, in the hope that each of these highly-gifted
persons, as well as the reader, will be amused in
hearing Lady Hester’s comments, made in a different
spirit from that which animates a critic in our
periodical reviews.
[12] I have often thought it must have been Mr.
Roberts, who, in his “Views of Syria,” has given
such a beautiful drawing of Lady Hester’s house,
notwithstanding that the surrounding scenery is
somewhat embellished by the painter’s imagination;
there being no river at the foot of the mount, but
only a watercourse always dry, excepting after heavy
rains.